


Tree Diagram and Lovebird Ethology

by softwinds



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Attempt at Humor, Author is obsessed with the golden girls, Canon-typical shenanigans, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Parallel Universes, Season/Series 04, Troy is oblivious, Valentine's Day, this is so chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softwinds/pseuds/softwinds
Summary: “You know what’ll help you cope?” Jeff continues. “Some scotch—”“— You should bring a date to the party too!” Annie thrusts a finger before the youth corruptor's mouth. “You know, have some fun! It’s Valentine’s Day!”“But it’s hard,” Troy groans. “I don’t like first dates. Impressing new people is so much effort. I like second dates, where you just go hang out at Lowe’s.”“Well, you can always bring someone you already know,” Annie points out patiently, ignoring Jeff’s confused glare that screamswhat-the-hell-do-you-mean-Lowe's. “It doesn't have to be Abed. Then you don’t have to impress them! Right?”Troy considers.-Abed's going on a Valentine's date with Karl, and Troy needs help lifting his spirit. By choosing from his get-better-emotionally plans, Troy is now creating six different timelines in the endless, raging sea of randomness.Inspired by S3E4: Remedial Chaos Theory.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101





	Tree Diagram and Lovebird Ethology

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I'm back again! This is one of the favorite stories I've even written, which means it's ultra chaotic and overall extremely silly. BIG thanks to [revelationtour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/revelationtour) for their wonderful, detailed beta (gosh I had SO MANY grammar mistakes) and [Noxxie_Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxxie_Moon) for being so kind and encouraging as usual!! Couldn't have finished it without them!
> 
> There are some the Golden Girls references in this fic but you don't have to know the actual show! Just for visual reference: [Uncle Angelo](https://goldengirls.fandom.com/wiki/Angelo_Grisanti,_Jr.) and [Lucas](https://goldengirls.fandom.com/wiki/Lucas_Hollingsworth) ([this too](https://static.fusionmovies.to/images/character/hfF6v3ZZwe0ZWFSkHdx6QBHkTLSucMWS55LFNC3VFlNPLA-i4c0Qhp3YnOezE8tkDtLvhDphxH6xV-_TGeKn0rn-RSwg5j5OCmctLHJmUCknHtdfD2qYnpKKcmzhTkbn.jpg)).
> 
> tw: alcohol consumption, canon typical fake German accent, Pierce Hawthorne, brief mentions of aliens

_“Gooood morning Greendale! Dust out your underwear and prepare the breath mints, because we’re officially in Valentine’s Week! The student lounge is now temporarily Leonard’s Floral Boutique— freshly picked, not from a graveyard; the Kissing Dean will be up at the Gym entrance, 50 percent of all donations will contribute to my ever-growing wig collection; bring your date to the costume party tomorrow in the cafeteria! Our theme is— Dorothy. Dorothy who? The one with cute hair bows, braids, and red slippers to die for? The sardonic one living in Miami? The 19th century English merchant ship? Who knows! As long as it tickles your fancy!...”_

***

“Jeff?” Annie whispers gingerly. “Do you think he’s alright? He’s being— so quiet.”

“It’s Troy. He thought asparagus was a kind of dinosaur. We can’t define what’s _alright_ for him.” Jeff closes his history textbook. “That being said, staring at the wall for a whole five minutes shouldn’t be anyone’s normal— Hey, Troy! Troy! Wake up!”

Troy blinks slowly. He turns to the study duo, jaw tightly clenched, letting a mixture of emotions parading across his face. He’s still in shock.

“Something just happened.” He trills. “Karl asked Abed out. And he said yes. And they’re going to the Valentine’s party together. I don’t know what to feel anymore.”

“Who’s Karl?” Annie frowns. “Wait. Karl the foosball guy? The blond kid who stole our study room?” She sucks in a sharp breath. “And now he’s stealing Abed?”

“Come on, guys, have some faith. Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he’s just trying to expand his social circle.” Jeff proposes. “I’d be doing the same thing if my number one guy is _Reinhold_.”

Troy can only agree. But his chest still feels tight and heavy, for some reason. Annie covers his hand sympathetically.

“You know what’ll help you cope?” Jeff continues. “Some scotch—”

“— You should bring a date to the party too!” Annie thrusts a finger before the youth corruptor's mouth. “You know, have some fun! It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“But it’s hard,” Troy groans. “I don’t like first dates. Impressing new people is so much effort. I like second dates, where you just go hang out at Lowe’s.”

“Well, you can always bring someone you already know,” Annie points out patiently, ignoring Jeff’s confused glare that screams _what-the-hell-do-you-mean-Lowe's_. “It doesn't have to be Abed. Then you don’t have to impress them! Right?”

Troy considers.

“That’s it!” He picks up his chin, exulting in the Eureka moment. “I’m asking Britta to the party!”

-

“Troy,” Britta waddles in her bulky scarecrow outfit, looking concerned. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to talk about what you’re going through? As a practitioner of the mental art, I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

“I’m going through nothing, Britta.” Troy absentmindedly dumps a whole bowl of Strawberry Cannoli onto his plate. “Why are you wearing a short brown wig with bangs?”

“Oh, this? I have my Dorothy Parker costume underneath,” Britta answers, pursing her lips. “Just in case, you know, someone wants to celebrate early twentieth century female activists with the occasion.”

Troy gets on his tiptoes and skims across the cafeteria for no particular reason. He sees Shirley, slow dancing with Andre in an ambiguous sparkling dress that loosely resembles either Glinda the good witch, Princess Aurora, or one of the fairy godmothers. Leonard is playing saxophone. Dean Craig is dressed as the Cowardly _Sexy_ Lion — Troy assumes so, at least — he’s wearing a comically large leather collar and footed catsuit, flirting with some guy at the Balsamic Tasting bar. (Why is that even a thing?)

His eyes freeze on Abed and Karl. 

“ _Lucas Hollingsworth…_ ”

“Wow, Abed’s looking good tonight.” Britta exclaims. “Isn’t that one of the douchey German dudes?”

Karl is wearing his usual track jacket as if he isn’t even _trying_ . Abed, on the other hand, is in full grey suits, wearing a stripped orange bow tie with the color palette of a cooked crab, two googly eyes stuck to each of its wings. Salt-and-pepper streaks run through his hair. He looks absolutely stunning. The blond doofus says something that makes Abed cant up his mouth (hopefully a thought so dumb that it’s ironically funny). Troy takes a deep breath and clenches his fist tight. He’s fine. This is fine. Why would he care if his best friend spends _Valentine’s Day_ with someone else? It’s seriously none of his business. He should just go home and play some video games before Abed even notices him—

“Troy! Who are you, that fat guy from The Matrix?” Pierce’s voice yells out from behind him like a fire alarm. “Oh, hey Britta! Surprise seeing you here! Not having unprotected rebound lesbian sex for a change?”

“I’m Uncle Angelo... shut up, Pierce.” Troy hisses. But it’s already too late: Abed turns in their direction and raises him a thumb up while Karl is looking away. Troy waves back, feeling like an idiot. 

Pierce shrugs and starts walking off, grumbling something about _urban education_. A circle of young women disperse in front of him.

Britta perks up an eyebrow.

“What?”

“No, _nothing,_ Troy.” She rolls her eyes. “Duh-doy, going to a Valentine’s costume party with your ex ‘cause you’re jealous of your best friend going on a date? Way to go.”

“I’m not jealous!” Troy protests. “It’s not like they’re gonna do anything!”

“Are they not, though?” Britta gestures to a far corner of the cafeteria. Next to Abed, Karl is footing away from the dance floor and toward the emergency exit, his hand settling on the other man’s lower back. Abed’s smile is polite but encouraging. 

He doesn’t return to their apartment that night.

***

“— That’s it!” Troy exults for his Eureka moment. “I’m asking Britta to the party!!”

Annie sighs.

“What? You said someone I know.”

“You’re asking _Britta_ ,” Jeff echoes. “The ex-girlfriend you broke up with three weeks ago using a body-switching scheme, to the Valentine’s Day dance.” He pauses, giving Troy a moment to digest. “That is one of the most pathetic ideas I’ve ever heard of, and I used to be an early-career defense attorney.”

Troy frowns. The plan _is_ kind of weak now that he really thinks about it. “What else should I do then?”

“That’s a good question, Troy. Let’s delve _deep_ into it. You are feeling bad because Abed is bringing this competitive German foosball player to the party. My suggestion? Bring someone even hotter. Then it’s their problem.”

“Ah!” Annie claps her hands together. “I know a hot guy! And he’s single too.”

“Sorry, can’t go, got plans.” Jeff pushes up a smug grin, arms folding behind his head. “Met a set of divorced moms in my IR class. We are doing a Malta Summit reenactment.”

“Eww! I wasn’t talking about you, egomaniac.” Annie wrinkles her nose. “You guys remember the Black Rider?”

-

“So,” Troy raises his voice cautiously. “Do you dress like this 24/7?”

“I’m a fan of the aesthetics.” The Black Rider tips down his raven-colored cowboy hat, voice deep and raspy. “It’s called Goth Western. You should look it up.”

“Cool. Can I call you B.R.?”

The Black Rider shakes his head. “No. That’s for Baskin Robbins.” 

Troy gets on his tiptoes and skims across the cafeteria. Shirley is slow dancing with Andre in a sparkling pink dress to the tune of _Jungleland_ , played by Leonard on saxophone. He’s with the band now. Dean Pelton is dressed as the Sexy Cowardly Lion, wearing a comically large red leather collar and footed catsuit, flirting with some guy at the Balsamic bar while, at the same time, stealing a glance or two at the Black Rider. — For real, the guy is like network TV handsome.

Troy’s eyes freeze on Abed and Karl. 

“ _Lucas Hollingsworth…_ ”

“Oh. You guys have Cannoli.” The paintball cowboy chuckles in delight, barely registering Troy’s murmuring. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Karl is wearing his ugly track jacket. Abed, on the other hand, is in full grey suits, with salt-and-pepper streaks running through his hair. His bowtie is in brilliant orange, with two googly eyes stuck to its wings, resembling a well-cooked crab. He looks so unbelievably good. 

The blonde doofus says something that makes Abed cant up his mouth (hopefully something so dumb that it becomes ironically funny). Troy takes a deep breath and clenches his fist tight. It’s fine. He has a date too. His date is even hotter. There’s absolutely nothing to be jealous about—

“Troy! Who are you, that fat guy from The Matrix?” Pierce’s voice yells out from behind him like a fire alarm. “And who’s this? Your gay date?”

“I’m Uncle Angelo,” Troy exclaims loudly, observing Abed from the corner of his eye. “And actually, yes, Pierce, this extremely good-looking man is my gay Valentine’s date.” 

Abed turns in his direction following their loud conversation. Troy grabs onto B.R.’s forearm to keep him close, raising Abed a thumbs up with the biggest, brightest fake smile he can manage. Karl turns to them as well, looking confused. Abed frowns for a quick moment, the emotion behind his eyes becomes even more unreadable than usual. 

_Shit,_ Troy realizes. _He’s walking over._

Pierce grimaces. “Yeesh. Stop gloating, I don’t want to know the details— Abed?” His jaw drops halfway open upon noticing the German kid walking behind Abed, flabbergasted. “What’s happening! Is _everyone_ gay in this group?” He suddenly looks horrified. “ _Oh my God_. It’s in the water. We’re drinking the same water. That Allen Jones guy was right...”

Pierce starts walking off while aggressively scrubbing his tongue. A circle of young women disperse in front of him.

“ _Sorry_ about Pierce. The best thing to do is to ignore him.” Abed extends his hand to B.R.— Troy has a feeling that he’s playing some character, like a mixture of Don Draper and some guy on the cover of those tiny novels his mom reads. “I’m Abed. We’ve met before.”

“Black Rider.” 

“So, you’re Troy’s date?” Abed flashes them a charming smile with the exact right amount of teeth. “I’ve never considered you a _friend_ _of Dorothy_.”

“I swing both ways.” The cowboy drags out a toothpick from nowhere, toying it in between his fingers. “And you?”

“Same same.” Abed leans forward, sticking a hand to the edge of the buffet table. “You’re going home with Troy tonight, I suppose?”

B.R. lends his gaze to Troy. “That’s what I assumed.”

Troy gulps. There’s something very strange going on right now, some really indescribable tension— Abed is definitely flirting with the Black Rider. They’re laughing, touching each other’s arms, and B.R. is showing Abed Annie’s text that reads _Desperate ex-football player seeking hot stranger for Valentine’s night._

This isn’t supposed to happen. Troy should be having a care-free, undemanding time.

“Und mein name is—”

“Not the time, Karl!” Troy sputters. “Everybody stop making googly eyes! Abed, let’s just go home.”

“Wow, calm down, sailor.” The cowboy holds up his palms. “You two live together? Is this another _undernegotiated boyfriend-swinger-fetish-gone-bitter_ situation?”

“We are,” Troy’s mouth suddenly runs dry. “We’re not boyfriends. However—”

Before he can finish, a loud commotion ripples through layers of confused gaspings and cuts off his train of thought. Britta, clearly drunk, barges into the cafeteria and climbs on the band platform. For some reason she’s wearing a short brown wig with bangs.

“We must... protest! The grotesque commercialization, of the… _one_ day that celebrates love!” She shouts, almost falling off the stage. “It’s not about having a stupid dance, buying big boxes of chocolates, or your fancy mariana sauce... why is there a Balsamic bar?? Anyway, it’s _not_ about being in a relationship _or_ going steady when you’re thirty years old...” 

She trails off. For a brief second, in the entire cafeteria, no one’s moving or talking or playing music. The world is silent.

“DOROTHY PARKER!!!—”

“— FOOD FIGHT!!!” 

Leonard yells out from behind Britta, and the cafeteria falls into chaos. The buffet table suddenly becomes a war zone— Troy sees Karl falling to the ground like a snapped twig, knocked out by an enormous piece of cheesecake. Andre is screaming. Troy tries to locate Abed, but the flying, splashing Zabaglione cups are blocking his vision. When Troy finally struggles to the emergency exit, with help from Shirley and her merciless Norwegian fiskegrateng smites, he realizes that his best friend is already gone, along with the Black Rider.

Abed doesn’t come back to the apartment that night.

***

“..., egomaniac.” Annie wrinkles her nose. “You guys remember the Black Rider?”

”Really, Annie, the _Black Rider_ ,” Jeff demurs, offended. “ _That’s_ the first guy you think of? He’s not even that good-looking! He’s like a Walmart version of Viggo Mortensen.”

“He has certain… allures.” Annie defends. “Whatever. Anyway, guess what? Your idea sucks. Don’t listen to him, Troy, everything he touches turns into a pissing contest. A true man has a big heart. A true man wouldn’t even _care_ about some Valentine’s Day costume party, or who’s going with who—”

“Annie, you’re literally on the party committee.”

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with earning some extra credit—”

Something suddenly clicks in Troy’s brain.

“Wait. Jeff, Annie’s onto something. Do you know what will show everyone that I really, really don’t care? Bringing the worst possible date ever. As a joke.”

-

It’s a terrible idea to bring Pierce.

First of all, Pierce doesn’t even dress up to the theme. He just looks like an old-timey vacuum salesman with a Hollywood dream. Second, he keeps on making borderline problematic Matrix jokes even after Troy reconfirms that he’s _not_ dressed as Morpheus. Third, to make a clear point that he isn’t really gay in any way, shape of performance, Pierce effectively decides to flirt with (or, to bother) every single woman in his six-foot radius. 

Troy leans against the buffet table, exhausted. He absentmindedly picks up a piece of Cannoli and places it on his tongue— it tastes like strawberry. Leonard is playing Bruce Springsteen’s _Jungleland_ on saxophone, and everyone is slow dancing. Troy feels awful. It sucks knowing his best friend’s most likely with Karl, being funny and handsome and having fun on the dance floor, even though Troy’s supposed to prove that he _really doesn’t care_.

“Troy?” A voice calls from his side. “Are you okay?”

“Abed?” Troy sniffles, blinking away some worked-up tears. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. You’re not with Karl?”

Abed is in a set of suits, the lapels of which nearly ironed, a lavender pocket square laying against his chest, contrasting to his brilliant orange bowtie. Two googly eyes stick to each of its wings, resembling a cooked crab. He’s put something in his short, curled hair to make it salt and pepper. He looks so good that Troy can feel his face burning up. 

Karl jogs towards them in his regular tracksuit. “Hello! Mein name is—“

“Not now, Karl.” Abed holds up a hand to halt his date in place. “Uncle Angelo? I like it. Kind of a deep cut. Why is Pierce doing a Neo impression for the cafeteria lady?”

“You’re not bad either, Lucas Hollingsworth.” Troy can’t help but smiles a little. “Pierce? ‘Cause he’s crazy.”

Abed purses his lips in agreement. “True. True true true. Do you want to go home, order some Baskin Robbins, and play GTA together?”

“But Abed, I zought we were koing to—”

“Karl? Karl, listen, man.” Troy shushes. “Sorry buddy, but we’re getting out of here. Me and Abed. The two of us.”

They bump into a very wasted Britta at the school gate, who is, for some reason, wearing a short, brown wig completed with bangs, mumbling about someone named Dot Parker. Abed agrees that they should let her crash for the night so that they can draw tiny mustaches all over her face in the morning. Her bruising hug smells like black licorice.

“Aw, you guys—”

  
  


***

  
  


“... You know what will show everyone that I really, really don’t care? Bringing the worst possible date ever. As a joke.”

The room is quiet.

“Wow, Troy.” Jeff is the first to break the silence. “That is, truly, the most childish idea ever. I really shouldn’t be surprised since it’s coming from you, but still. Wow.”

Annie sighs. “I have to agree with Jeff. Is it really worth it spending your Valentine’s Day with Pierce?”

“I didn’t say I’d bring _Pierce_!”

“We all know you were thinking about Pierce, Troy. He’s the human equivalent of a pepper spray, and it’s held the wrong way.” Jeff replies.

“What else should I do then! Un-plan the party?” Troy bawls. Suddenly, bathed in unforeseen revelation, he pushes his palms flat against the table. “Wait. I just got it. All I need to do is to build a giant Terminator, smashing through the hallway ceiling—”

“Um, Troy? I don’t think you can just build a giant robot overnight.” Annie frowns. “Plus, I won’t let you even if you could! I’m on the party committee, remember?”

Troy chews down his lower lip.

“What if,” he considers. “What if I hold another better party _inside_ the original one? Like, for example, the theme could be… A Die Hard party. An Inspector Spacetime party. An Indiana Jones party—”

-

Blorgons...

Blorgons as far as eyes can see.

“Troy, listen, there are two courageous, very divorced moms currently sitting in my apartment, trying to navigate love life in their forties, so please just neutralize me or whatever so I can go home.” Jeff-Thoraxis-Hans grumps. “Malta Summit, remember?”

“It’s negatize.” Constable Troy-Angelo-Powell-Jones replies. “Come on Jeff! At least wait until Abed is here— ohmygod Abed! You made it!”

Abed is wearing his white Inspector overcoat with a sleek grey suit underneath, unbuttoned, and layered beneath that is a tight, John McClain style tank top. He’s wearing a bright orange bow tie in the color of a cooked crab, and a white Panama hat, some salt-and-pepper hair peeking out from under its brim. He stands barefooted on the cafeteria floor.

“Of course, I saw your Inspector Spacetime-inside-Die Hard-inside-Indiana Jones-Party Inside the Dean’s Party poster and couldn’t pass up the chance. Annie told me she worked on it overnight.” Abed nods. “Is Britta here? I complimented her Secretary Ginny wig earlier and she said she needed a moment — Troy, your costume impresses me. You too, Jeff, nice Thoraxis-Hans set up.”

“These are my actual clothes.” Jeff sighs. “And that is my actual face, so please stop poking at it admiringly.”

“Jeff? Not the time,” Troy tugs at Jeff’s jacket sleeve and pushes him away into the crowd, eyes fixated on his best friend. “So, uh, how’s it going with Karl, Inspector Abed-Hollingsworth-McClain-Brody?”

Abed gestures behind his back. Across the cafeteria, three guys are participating in some kind of silent disco: Karl, Reinhold, and another foosball dude that Troy doesn’t remember the name of, all in tight black pants and light-colored turtlenecks, wielding what looks like empty wine bottles, dancing like nobody’s watching. Karl has a sailor’s hat on as well, equally wasted as the others.

“In the German version of Die Hard, the bad guys’ names are Benoît, Maxime and Jean-Baptiste Alphonse.” Abed explains. “I guess Reinhold found the poster too.”

Troy frowns in disbelief. “Karl ditched you?”

“Not really. We had a change of plan. He gets drunk and has fun with some friends first, I come find you, and the three of us go back to play GTA: Vice City or GTA: San Andreas. The original plan has to wait.” Abed says, picking up a piece of Cannoli and placing it into his mouth. “Ah. Strawberry.”

“— what was the original plan?”

“Free dinner and casual sex.” Abed sticks out his tongue and casually licks the cream off his fingers. Troy almost chokes. 

“You _what_ ? Abed! Not with _him_ !” Waves of heat rush to his cheeks and make his ears ring. Oh man, he’s feeling vicious. He’s feeling— _something_ , definitely. 

Abed stretches out his lips, studying Troy’s face in his usual mysterious, guileless way like a little lion cub observing a sulking, grumbling forest hiker, not yet sure about the power he possesses. He’s too good for Karl. He must not be corrupted by the spirit of excessively tight pants, blutwurst or saying the word ‘football’ when talking about _soccer_ . _Shit_ , Troy can’t imagine the slightest possibility that— he’s not ready yet. He doesn’t know why or how, but he has to stop _that_ thing from happening— he’ll figure it out. Right now, his mouth is dry and he’s very much in need of some special drink. 

  
  


***

  
  


“... An Indiana Jones dance.” Troy takes in a careful breath. “You know what? No. _No_. This is not about that. This is between me and Karl.”

“Are you sure, Troy? I actually think a new party would be a good idea.” Annie leans in, looking at him with concern. “I can make the posters! I’m sure Jeff could lend a hand, too.”

Jeff shrugs, not protesting too hard. 

“No.” Troy screws his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. “It’s got to be this way. One on one. Man to man. No more talking, no more party planning, and no more joke dates. I will duel him in the name of honor and my friendship with Abed.”

Annie shakes her head like a tambourine. “Do _not_ do anything stupid, Troy. You don’t know him. He could be dangerous! Plus, you know!— If you love something, set it free! Violence can’t solve any problem!”

“Are you sure, Annie? Did you set the Model UN free for the other Annie?” Jeff cants forward as well, trying to stare his opponent down. “You heard Troy, this is not our battle to fight. However, as the only real adult in this discussion, I must warn you against certain chivalry.”

“Don’t worry, Jeff.” Troy picks up his chin, heart thunders in his chest. “Do you know how Abed and Karl originally met?”

-

**< Welcome to SpawnCraft Online >**

**< You are in realm: Connected Frosthammer>**

**< Watch the skies, traveller >**

**[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: Hey.

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: Tomorrow. 6 pm. Valley of The Stripped Clouds.

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: We duel.

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: who is this? do I know you? 

**[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: I’m the man. The myth. The legend.

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: I’m from your school.

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: Leonard? 

**[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: I have a thing tmrw night :) can’t hang. Sorry d00d.

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: If you win I’ll do whatever you ask! 

**[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: Vice versa

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: And it’s NOT Leonard. 

**[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: ja?

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: a bold statement to make.

 **[TBoneLaForge]** whispers: I know. The stakes are high. 

**[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: oh ok. 

**[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: are u sure tho?

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: I am Dr.Blitz, Champion of the Crystal Temple, Saintly Paladin, Wielder of the Four-Pronged Trident, Knight of the Atlantis Guild, and I take no joy in attaining an unfair battle

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: your a lvl 4 shaman

 **[Dktor_Blitz]** whispers: so no

_Why does man have honor?_ Troy groans. 

Is he going to fail like this? To abandon all hope without even a chance to fight? To let go of Abed on this fateful Valentine’s Day because he doesn’t have a high-level MMO character? 

No. Troy isn’t letting it happen. He types in the search bar— 

flurry of excitement as an article from _feltbeardgroomandcare.com_ grabs his attention: _Become good at SpawnCraft in one day_ by ConsumerOfTrolls1204 (that’s his birthday! Coincidence?). There’s also an email address displayed under the title.

 _Why not?_ Troy cracks his knuckles. _Let’s give it a try._

-

**Six Months Later**

“Abed!!” Troy yells out, his throat creaking. “Throw me the Cube!”

“I can’t!” Abed’s voice is flickered by the winds, his body dangling by a long, wringed curtain tieback, roped to the top spire of Lakhta Center. “I’m moving too much!”

“Give me your hand,” Troy doesn’t know if his grappling hook can hold on any longer, but at this point, anything’s worth a try. He stares down at the landscape of Saint Petersburg through all 1516 ft of sky and clouds, praying that his slippery sweaty palm doesn’t result in their certain doom. Next time — if they come out of this alive, he’ll make sure to sew some nice thick gloves into their ninja suits like pajama footies.

Fortunately, the past few months’ rigorous training has strengthened his arm and wrist. Troy pulls them both up by the thin nylon thread, smashes a window with his brass knuckles before making a swift front roll into the room and under an office table.

He looks at Abed’s face, panting. 

“We can’t do this forever.” Troy manages.

“We have to, Troy.” Abed reaches out and grips around his forearm. His eyes are firm and determined. “We can’t let them have the Cube.”

Troy nods. That’s true. Some things are bigger than him.

“Any words from Donnie?”

“He’s with Koyuki now. They’re bringing the crew over.” Abed sweeps his ear toward the door. “What was that?”

Troy doesn’t answer, because there’s only one possible explanation and they both know exactly what it is: they’ve been found, and there’s no other way out.

“He better get here fast.” Troy smiles bitterly. He relaxes his shoulders, letting his back slide down against the office table. Abed sits beside him, suitcase in hand. They lean by each other in silence. The footsteps outside are slowly but steadily becoming louder. 

“I’m sorry.” Troy sniffs, choking back his cowardly tears. He’s promised himself never to cry again after their first week on the run. “It’s all my fault.”

Abed chuckles softly. “It’s not your fault, Troy.”

“But it is. I never told you the full story, Abed,” his voice is starting to break. “Remember Valentine’s Day, when the Dean decided to do the Dorothy party? I really didn’t want Karl to take you out, so I emailed some stranger on the internet so that I could— I could beat him in SpawnCraft Online— and the stranger— “

“— who turned out to be our evil doppelgängers from another dimension, who stole all our credentials and attempted semi-successful assassinations of all UN officials posing as air conditioner repairmen, rendering us international fugitives,” Abed continues. “Leading to our escape, Jeff’s tepid press conference, the week spent in Kansas, Sharknado 2—”

“— Mark McGrath was so good in it—“

“— He really was. And the accidental discovery of alien atomic technology on their ill-located spacecraft crash site, undercover movie extras, Donnie Yen, MUFON, nurses that looked like cats, cats with thumbs, hi-tech ninja suits, befriending the secret military, being betrayed by the secret military,” Abed looks down at the suitcase cuffed to his wrist. “And the Cube.”

“The Cube.” Troy echoes. “You’re right, Abed. So, you knew everything already. And you’re not mad at me?”

“I was, at the beginning. Not anymore.” Abed’s head falls on Troy’s shoulder. He’s tired too, Troy can tell. “This is the most exciting escapade-slash-Bonnie and Clyde adventure storyline that’s ever happened to me. Also, the biggest tragedy that will probably lead to our impending demise... but again, adventure.”

From what Troy can hear, the secret military is now kicking down each door from the hallway. Their chance of survival is thin. 

“Abed?” He gulps. “I want you to know that I—”

He doesn’t finish, because Abed’s mouth is suddenly on his, and a slender knee sticks in between his legs. Abed’s lips are soft, slightly chapped from their ninja suits’ lack of space for lip balms (he finally understands how ladies feel about their skinny, fake-pocketed jeans). Troy licks into his mouth eagerly— Abed tastes like fire and vanilla. A strong yet nimble hand grabs onto his hips. Troy gasps. The heel of a palm reaches into the hem of his top and presses into his skin, hot and rough against his abdomen, mapping down...

“Don’t say it, Troy,” Abed murmurs against his trembling lips. “It’s too late. I don’t want you to fulfill the deadly confession trope.”

Troy nods, on the verge of crying. There’s a loud commotion outside, and this time it certainly isn’t Britta. He’s wanted this for so long, and the moment is so short. It’s all because of SpawnCraft.

Suddenly, without warning, the whole room is bathed in neon green light, beaming down from the smashed window. Troy lifts up his gaze. A two storied, disk-shaped aircraft spins against the sky, buzzing and humming.

“It’s the crew!” Troy gestures wildly to the source of the light. “We’re saved!”

“The Zelnorg race,” Abed’s eyes are wide. “Cultivators of Flowers and Seeds, inventors of 4D Sudoku, reverse-reverse time travelers, original owners of the Atomic Cube…”

“Donnie!”

As another door behind them is kicked open, the tan, totally buffed actor slash producer slash martial artist appears in midair outside their window, wearing a tight silver catsuit and helmet. He waves at them.

“Troy! Abed! We’re beaming you up here! We’ll send you back to before all the bad stuff happened, and everything will be alright!”

They start moving, floating into mid air, limbs still twined together. There’s still hope. Troy smiles at Abed, and extends his smile to Donnie. But all of a sudden he realizes— there’s something wrong. Something’s off. 

“Donnie? Where’s your—”

“Troy, the Zelnorg spacesuit isn’t made for human anatomy!” Donnie yells back. “To survive the flight, we all have to surrender our butts!”

A bone-shattering howl escapes from Troy’s mouth. Finally, pushed past his limit of self-control, burning tears stream down his cheeks like lava as he begins drifting into darkness.

  
  


***

“Troy?” A voice calls out to him. “Troy!”

“Ah!”

He jumps forward in his seat, disoriented. “What?”

“You just sort of… spaced out, after saying something about where Karl and Abed originally met.” Annie, face pale with worry, covers his hand with hers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… had a weird dream or something. I don’t remember.” Troy tries to recall. “Can you buy insurance for your butt?”

“Yes, of course, why not,” Jeff crosses his hands together. “We just spent forty minutes talking about your boy problem, complete with you daydreaming in the middle of the conversation, which is not disconcerting at all, by the way— so my suggestion is, go home, pick one of the _many_ things we just talked about,” he stands up from the table, coat in one arm. “Or not, I doubt it’ll matter that much. Meanwhile, I’ll just leave and have a drink, or many, because your communication skills are seriously depressing me.” 

“Just talk to Abed, okay?” Annie gently pats on his shoulder. “I’ll go shoot a text to… someone. Someone who’s not a paintball assassin. Maybe Britta too.”

-

When Troy gets home, Abed’s sitting primly on the sofa, eating kettle corn and watching Cougar Town with a level of intensity. 

“How was your day?” Abed asks. “You’re home late. Where’s Annie?”

“I think she’s talking to Britta. And the Black Rider.”

“Ah, B.R.. He’s cool. I miss unnecessarily-elaborate competitive paintball.” Abed nods, shuffling aside to give Troy some space. Troy settles down next to him, drags his feet up onto the sofa and hugs around his own knees. Courtney Cox’s son is again fumbling on screen, unsure of what to say around the unreachable blonde he likes. 

“Do you think he’ll find love?” Troy gestures to the TV. The guy is straight up helpless. 

“Who? Travis? Of course he will.” Abed replies, undoubtingly. “Kind, witty, confident, reinventing himself every other episode, sometimes overly protective with a lack of thorough consideration, but aside from that I don’t see any fatal character flaw. He’ll end up with Laurie, the fun-loving one. Unless they change writers mid-run. Nobody wants that.”

Troy gulps. He has to do this sooner or later. “Abed? I need to apologize for something.”

“I forgive you for secretly eating my flat bread.”

“—Yes, that too.” Troy shuffles his fingers, trying to find the right words. “I was trying to concoct some plans and stop you from going out with Karl tomorrow. It’s stupid, I know. Not what a good friend should do. I’m coming clean now before Jeff or Annie tells you through some well-intentioned divulging accident. They do that every time.”

“Is this one of the plans?” Abed lowers the TV volume and turns to face Troy. The bridge of his nose is slightly wrinkled. 

“No,” Troy answers honestly. “We kinda decided that none of them were good.” 

“By arbitrarily choosing one of your Scott Pilgrim-style strategies, you would’ve entered one of the many timelines parallel to ours, just like that one time Jeff threw a die at our housewarming party. It complicates things. Things are already too complicated.” Abed cants his head to the side, falling quiet for a brief second. “Perhaps fortunately, you’ve chosen the most unlooked-for side branch instead of other structurally-similar events, thus making this our prime timeline— Unless one of the other ideas involves the construction of an ultra realistic memory altering device with the ability to simulate your face, our home, as well as the entire season 3 of Cougar Town.” He’s eyes light up. “Does it?”

“Would you prefer that?”

Abed considers for a moment. “Not really.” 

“Then no.” 

Abed nods. He pops another kettle porn into his mouth, chewing quietly. Troy takes in a deep breath. This is his do-or-die moment.

“I had a weird moment in the middle of concocting.” He pauses, attempting and failing to read the mood of the room from Abed’s breathing rhythm. “I don't remember much. Ip Man was there. There was also something about butt, or butt-related accidents,” Troy takes in a deep breath. “And we kissed in it. I think. ”

He waits for the answer.

“Oh.” Abed replies. 

“ _Oh_ ? Just oh?” Troy wails. “Is _this_ the darkest timeline?”

“Did you like it?” Abed turns and stares into Troy’s eyes with unblinking focus. “Kissing me?”

“I— yes.” Troy’s heart is beating so fast that his whole chest is vibrating. “It was good.”

“Maybe the prime timeline still has space for improvement.” Abed smiles and lowers his eyelids. “Should we figure it out tomorrow after the party?”

-

They buy a [ goldfish ](https://muppet.fandom.com/wiki/Dorothy) for Karl and convince Britta to wear a furry red jumpsuit, so that they can justify dressing up again as Bert and Ernie. Shirley is the only one who gets the reference.

They slow dance to Leonard’s saxophone since Karl’s busy balancing the water filled fish bowl, and Troy’s too focused on the texture of Abed’s skin to notice which song the band is playing. Before Pierce, who’s dressed as a sixties-era door-to-door salesman, can successfully spot them across the cafeteria, Abed clutches Troy’s wrist and leads him out the exit, both of them half full of cheesecake and strawberry Cannoli. They kiss in the hallway of their apartment, and Troy’s breath is shaky like the tail end of a tremolo note.

Tomorrow they’re going to Lowe’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, and hope you liked it!! Comments & Kudos are so very welcomed and they keep me going >v<
> 
> My [tumblr](https://softhauntedwinds.tumblr.com)! Come say hi!!


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